


The Bestiary Does Not Know Best

by knarcelestial



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek is scared of the Sheriff, Implied Mpreg, Kate Argent does not exist, M/M, Sheriff Disapproves, Sheriff has a gun gosh dang it, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Bestiary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 13:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12366768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knarcelestial/pseuds/knarcelestial
Summary: “I will find you and I will kill you if I think what’s happened has happened and it turns out to be your fault.”It’s a moment’s pause before Derek really gathers enough of himself to respond to this.“With all due respect sir, you’re at my house so you’ve pretty much already found me.” And before his brain can catch up with him and his body follows to throw itself into a ditch somewhere far, far away, Derek plows forward with a very valid question, “And for what exact reason are you quoting Liam Neeson to me at six o'clock in the morning?”





	The Bestiary Does Not Know Best

 

 

 

 

*********

“I will find you and I will kill you if I think what’s happened has happened and it turns out to be your fault.”

It’s a moment’s pause before Derek really gathers enough of himself to respond to this.

“With all due respect sir, you’re at my house so you’ve pretty much _already_ found me.” And before his brain can catch up with him and his body follows to throw itself into a ditch somewhere far, far away, Derek plows forward with a very valid question, “And for what exact reason are you quoting Liam Neeson to me at six in the morning?”

The Sheriff, the poor man, looks like he’s aging a year a second. Derek earns a glare from this because apparently he’s said this out loud.

 _Wonderful_. Go on, Derek. Add more reason for the man with the gun- who’s barely legal son you’re not supposed to be dating but are- to shoot you, Derek’s brain helpfully supplies.

“Um.” Derek says, because he’s a barely passable conversationalist on a good day, and in the wee moments on a Thursday morning, his body has still to catch up with the whole fight or flight survival thing (read: words are coming out of his mouth right now that will probably get him killed soon).

“Please, come inside.” Some self-preserving part of Derek’s mind pushes forth, moving aside to make room for the Sheriff to wiggle through the front door, “Sir.” He adds on, making sure to be on his A-game and all, covering his bases, milking the man's cows; you know, the good stuff.

The Sheriff takes in the interior of his house with no less vigilance than his just police occupation offers, scanning the walls and rooms as Derek leads him down a hallway to the sitting area.

“Would you like some coffee, Sheriff?” Derek asks, rolling into the kitchen on autopilot, clinking and clattering pots in the cupboards until he comes across the tiny coffee pot Stiles insisted on buying him last month. Derek remembers the day with ominous clarity: “Derek, if I have to deal with another one of the betas calling me to feed their starving bodies because your groggy ass can’t get itself out of the house before noon, I’m never baking you chocolate Caneles again.” And see, that didn’t really do it for Derek, but then Stiles invited him over for what Derek thought was for sexy times but was really for a dinner (read:interrogation) with the future father-in-law, and, honestly Derek has never been so scared for his life because of a human before.

So, there they are, five minutes later, huddled awkwardly on the couch in the living room staring at one another for what has now been two of those five minutes in painfully, dead silence.

The Sheriff is the one to break first. Surely, Derek obviously must look constipated right now or something. It's the small mercies, though, Derek tells himself.

“So, Derek.” The Sheriff begins.

“No.” Derek replies, because he’s a whole continent worth of problematic angst and stupid and he evidently doesn’t know how to English properly.

“No?”

Derek clears his throat, and wonders if he should be regretting the cup and a half of coffee that he’s consumed prior to this conversation. The answer to that is yes, because then he chooses instead to stare at the older man until he becomes uncomfortable enough to strike up another conversation after realising the blatant dead end in the previous one.

Saving him yet again from himself, the Sheriff cuts him off, “Alright, listen son. I didn’t come here for flattery and chattery, alright. There is a situation and I need answers.”

Derek nods and puts down his coffee mug on the table in front of them so that the Sheriff knows that he has his full attention.

“It’s about Stiles.” The Sheriff says, and if Derek were in wolf form right now, the Sheriff imagines his head would be tilted to the side with an ear up in the air.

“He’s been acting... _different_ lately.”

Derek frowns, “How so?”

The Sheriff puts his own cup to the side before settling deeper into the cushions like he’s getting himself ready for a long talk, “He’s sick, Derek.”

Derek shakes his head, not understanding, “What do you mean? What makes you think that?”

The Sheriff sighs, rubbing a hand down the side of his face, showing that side of him again that just seems truly _exhausted_ , “He’s crankier, more picky.” The man starts gesturing in the air likes he’s reading off of a floating grocery list, “He hasn’t been going out lately. Just stays up huddled in his room. The only time he comes out is to use the bathroom when he needs to vomit like his innards are trying to physically crawl out of him.”

Derek makes a face at that, but is more concerned about the supposed sickness that Stiles is experiencing. He catches the Sheriff’s eyes when he asks, “Do you think it might be a magic thing?”

The Sheriff shrugs, sighing, and shaking his head like he's just as lost as Derek is, “I don’t know, Derek. That’s why I came to you. Do you know anything about this?”

Derek tries to recall everything that’s happened in the past week since he’s seen Stiles, “I don’t think I’ve spoken with Stiles for the past two days at all.” Coming to think of it, Derek hasn’t heard properly from Stiles for an entire week, “When did you start to notice that he was acting strange?”

The Sheriff seems to ponder for a while before responding hesitantly, “A week. But that’s only been since he’s really started to act out. It’s been happening for more than two weeks now.”

Derek rubs along his beard in a familiar gesture of thought, “It’s weird that Stiles hasn’t told me anything about this.”

The Sheriff looks sympathetic like he understands the feeling, and reaches over an arm to rest on Derek’s shoulder, “Do you think you could tell me what the gang was up to around that time? Two weeks ago?”

Derek nods. There weren’t any major threats that they had to face since the whole kanima thing, and the dealing with the Scullions from the North wasn’t up until the winter solstice passed, so what was it that they did?

Two weeks ago.. Two weeks..

Oh.

Well, there was the full moon. And, Stiles had come over to spend the night, making sure to take care of the rest of pack when they came back after their run.

But they weren’t doing anything unusual on the day that they wouldn’t do on any other. It was just like normal, except with lots and lots and lots of sex, because it was Stiles’s first time and-

Derek shoots up from the couch faster than a man sitting on a bed of sharpened knives, and throws a heavy look at the Sheriff, telling him frantically to stay seated, “Just give me a moment.” He says, throwing all precaution to the wind as he hightails it up to his room where Stiles’s Bestiary is sitting.

Derek throws open the book to a page Stiles bookmarked on his last visit a couple of days ago and nearly has an aneurysm:

 _Alphas and their mates: conception,_ it reads

an excerpt:

_While most alphas find their bondmates at an earlier age, some find them at later stages. Contrary to what most believe, those that find their mates later on in life, usually have a higher rate of conceivability than those at younger stages. While the true cause is unknown, some believe that maturing and understanding what they really want to find in their significant other, allows for the bond between older mates to solidify faster than most._

Skipping a couple of lines, another excerpt:

_Having a solid bond can have many unforeseeable effects. Say that the alpha’s mate is a human, then the human will be able to carry wolf pups in a way that would be considered harmful for an average being. Say that the alpha’s mate is a male, then they will be able to carry pups in a newly formed reproductive system that may not have been present before the bond has completely solidified. However, it is important to take note that a male human mate is very difficult to conceive with. On rare occurrences, particularly on the full moon, copulating may cause a-_

Skipping more lines, another excerpt:

_Side effects can include, nausea, aversion to foods along with enhanced selectivity, headaches, a dire need to nest and not leave their home-_

Derek slams the book shut so hard it falls off of the corner of the dressing table.

“Oh my god..” Derek whispers to himself, “I fucking got Stiles fucking pregnant.”

Of course, in the unfortunate saga that is his life, the Sheriff just happens to be standing behind him when he says this, and well… he doesn’t take to it too easily.

“You did whAT.” The accusation isn’t even a question, that’s how screwed Derek is.

He turns around slowly and isn’t really all that surprised to see the gun that’s pointed at his delicate head. So, in the most placating manner that he can manage, Derek gestures gently at the Sheriff and says, “Now, sir, I know what you _think_ you heard. But, really what you heard is not what you _heard_ , but is what you _imagined_ to hear.”

And that’s when the Sheriff shoots him in the toe.

Oh good, it’s laced with wolfsbane, too. Damn, the man came prepared.

*********

_Later that evening.._

“Did it ever occur to the both of you, that I might _actually_ be sick?” Stiles asks, nursing his wounded boyfriend and placating a not even guilty looking father.

“No.” The both of them reply in such synchronization, Stiles can’t help but to roll his eyes.

The Sheriff sighs, and sits down on his son’s bed where both Stiles and Derek are cuddling furiously. It’s frustrating that the reason they’re in bed together right now is because Stiles has the flu and Derek can’t catch it- because of stupid werewolf immunity- and Derek got shot and Stiles wanted to console him and- basically this is all the Sheriff’s doing. He shot the man, and this is a price he is going to have to pay for it.

Except he does receive a glare from Stiles when he sits on Derek’s obliterated foot _accidentally,_ “Plus, when has it ever been the _normal_ choice of the two that happens to the both of you in any situation? Deadly mass-murdering lizard man or mere drunken hallucination? Of course it’s the fucking kanima.”

“This is awful.” Stiles moans, burrowing himself farther into the sheets.

“What the part where I have to watch the both of you cuddling or the part where I didn’t take a shot for Derek’s balls instead?”

“Dad!” Stiles shouts, leaning protectively over Derek who looks just about ready to take his chances on his damaged foot if he throws himself out of the second floor window right now.

“Stiles-” The Sheriff sighs, praying for strength, “-you dating Derek was a hard decision for me, okay? Knowing now that you could get _pregnant_? What in the hell, son? There’s only so much your old man can take.”

Stiles pouts and takes Derek’s hand into his own, “We’re mates, dad. There isn’t really much you can do about that.” Is what he says, like there’s nothing more to discuss, “Plus, we use protection.”

The Sheriff cringes, “Okay, that’s good to know. But, I still would have preferred for you both to have waited until later. Much later. Like maybe, later never.”

Stiles huffs, “Yeah, thanks dad. I appreciate the sentiment. But, I’m eighteen now. We waited that long, so really nothing we did was technically illegal.”

The Sheriff glowers at Derek when he sees the man herding his son closer to him and rubbing along his side to take some of his pain as he has a coughing fit.

The man sighs as he stands up to leave, “Get better, Stiles. And I’m serious when I say no more pregnancy scares. I’m throwing planned parenthood pamphlets in your room tomorrow.” He stares pointedly at Stiles and then points a finger at Derek before saying, “And I’m _mailing_ a bunch of them to your house, too. Not that either of you need them right now, but for safe measures.”

When the Sheriff leaves the room, he leaves the door ajar a crack so he can eavesdrop down the hall.

Coming back around the corner on his way to his room from downstairs meets him with a closed door and hurried whispers.

Curious, the Sheriff leans up against the door:

“So, Derek...”

“No, don't even go there. You heard your father, Stiles. Do you prefer me in pieces or something?”

There’s a pause, and then, “Okay, but ever since I read that article in the Bestiary, I’ve been thinking about it, you know. And, well… carrying your pups isn't such a bad thought, I guess?”

The Sheriff hears Derek groan, “God, Stiles. If your dad wasn’t against it, I'd be knocking you up seven ways to-”

The door slams open abruptly and then, “God damn it, Hale! You had _one_ thing to do!"

*********

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave Kudos and tell me what you think about the fic in the comments below! :)


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